


mark me as myself

by QueenOfSkaro



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dale - Freeform, Erebor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Prince Bain of Dale, Royalty of Dale, Tattoos, Underage - Freeform, but very willing Bain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfSkaro/pseuds/QueenOfSkaro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Afraid to lose himself in his new life Bain decides he needs something permanent to remember where he comes from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mark me as myself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this great prompt:
> 
> Unlike dwarves, tattoos are not seen as social acceptable among the people of Dale, especially for a prince like Bain. Once Bain is an adult, he decides to get a tattoo but he can't ever be seen to have one. So, he decides to get one really high on his inner thigh and asks Dwalin to do the job.
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/14785.html?thread=26645697#t26645697

There was a whole arsenal of things Bain was allowed to do now that he was a prince.  
Like drinking, or shutting people down who talked bad about his sisters – he already did that before, but then people believed he was the one who started it, even if it wasn't the case.  
He was allowed to hold a dog, now, too, because they could afford it's food now and still feed themselves. It was mostly Tildas, though, to be honest.

In every part of his life he noticed something he could do or say that was taboo before.  
But the other side of the coin seemed so much larger to him.  
His life got restrictions were he wasn't even aware he was consciously allowed and every time he was trying to have some fun someone appeared to veer him back to his duties.

Of course he knew that it was important what he did, his father had entrusted him the supervision of the many constructions sites they had in their city and it was necessary that he overlooked in case one had an issue about static or resources or the size of the needed rooms.

Bain took to his task like a fish to water and he loved his days, his purpose and he was very much grateful for everything the Valar had granted them.  
But even though they had less to eat before, he had his freedom then and more often than not he felt stifled with responsibility. 

“Hey, Bain, give this a look, will yer.”, Clarence yelled over the site to get his attention. He wasn't technically working there, but as he was the new head of guards of course he gave the construction of the guard house – and especially the cells – a visit once in a while. He'd later join Bains father when the dwarves of Erebor would come for negotiations about whatever it was they were haggling about again.  
The prince would know soon enough, as he had to sit in to get the hang of his princely duties. 

“It's prince Bain, for you, commoner.”, Alfrid yelled back, making the younger roll his eyes. He didn't understand how his father could stand to have him in town. Bain just ignored him as best as possible, like he always did.

Walking over to Clarence he inspected the newest workings done by people who still had to learn their crafts. No one had ever lived in stone buildings before, or bothered to think about building them. They were good at wood work – give any of the Lake people a few planks and they could do wonders, but to learn how to work with something unyielding as stone – but durable as it was it was only smart to use it compared to wood – they had needed help from the dwarfs.

Many buildings were already finished because of that, but to Bain it often seemed like a never ending task to rebuild Dale.  
Arriving at the guards side it was obvious what he meant even without asking.  
The bars were put in sloppily and, growling under his breath in annoyance, he thanked the graying man and marched off to find whoever was responsible for it.

Probably Derek trying to be smart to be sure he could break out if he ever got locked away again. Bain thought it was a good idea to place him working on the cells, as means to discourage future episodes.

Obviously he was wrong and now they had to redo work where they had so much to do anyway.  
His anger reached its peak as he saw Derek sitting down for a smoke. It was easy to work it off as he ripped into him with vigor.

* * *

No matter how often he saw them, he still got breathless in an awed kind of way.  
Dwarves in general were strong in nature and took up presence even where their size didn't reach.  
But it was even more prominent with these in particular. Thorin, Balin and Dwalin – King, Lord and Lord, he had to remind himself – were part of the company that months ago sought shelter in their house. Since then a lot had happened, but Bain still felt connected to them. He wasn't talking with them a lot or something and he couldn't really describe it, but no matter how many dwarves he got no know over the last months Thorins company always came to his mind first.

Standing besides his father they greeted him second and he beamed at them for a second, happy to be in their presence, even if he felt really small next to them. He was roughly the same size as Dwalin, but so much slighter that he didn't feel equal to him. And with his new prince-ness and responsibilities and everyone asking for his opinion he relished the feeling of being dwarfed by a dwarf.

Alfrids hand crept up his back in warning and Bain stopped his smile, putting on his face of polite seriousness, something they had to teach him first. He didn't like it, wanted to smile at Dwalin and take his time to stare, but he wasn't allowed and that was one of those points he didn't appreciate with his new status.

They sat down at the table and Thorin at once started to talk about crops and planting, something they weren't able to do in the mountain and, to be honest, didn't knew much about it anyway. 

The kings consort, the little hobbit Bilbo Bain got to know, too, had worked wonders on the burned lands surrounding the Erebor, but he couldn't cultivate them alone and now they wanted help.  
For Bard and Bain it wasn't a question if they helped, only how much they could give and at what price. With the loads of work they had to do people were expensive resources worth haggling over.

As the talks progressed Bain found himself staring despite his better judgement.  
Dwalin – Lord Dwalin, the kings first guardsman, looked alert, but at ease. In his element, Bain thought, flushing a little. Protecting someone, keeping them safe, was his element. He was built for it, too. Arms thick and muscled bulged at the slightest tension, deepening Bains blush and rooting themselves in his thoughts. 

The ink on his visible skin had made him curious since their first meeting. Until now he'd learned that they were called tattoos and were inked under the skin with needles to symbol a great event or to pay someone respect.  
He also knew that it wasn't a human thing to do and viewed as abnormal – he asked his father if he could have one and Bard looked ready to snap something. Bain hadn't asked again, but he hadn't forgotten either.

His eyes journey over Dwalins skin brought him up to a smirking mouth and laughing eyes, wrinkled at the corners and, caught, Bain quickly averted his gaze, glowing red and hot and so utterly mortified he wanted to excuse himself and run, but as a prince he had to shoulder through and live with it.  
He never disliked being a prince as much as now.

* * *

His sister Sigrid got to work on the fields around the Erebor, learning first under the hobbits guidance and then taking over the responsibility so the hobbit could turn to other things.

From what Bain could see on his visits – he made not to control her ability, but purely for personal reasons, as working there meant Sigrid living in the mountain and he missed her terribly – the fields did turn out quite nicely. They spanned over the majority of what once was wasteland and while the crops weren't growing yet a plowed field looked way more friendly than dead land. After one of those days he stood, with the soft earth at his back, looking over the long lake. Bain was smeared with dirt, on his clothes, his hands, his face. His body felt tired and worn and he couldn't wait to fall into his bed in the guestroom the dwarves provided him.

Yet, at the same time, he hadn't felt this alive in months.  
He felt himself again, after a long day of hard work with dirt-caked fingernails and sweaty curls. A boy who could work with his hands, do useful, practical things.

Looking out over the water he felt an unfamiliar yearning in his very bones. He was a boy of the lake. Fighting to survive, to feed his sisters, his father. Looking after them in every way he could, from fishing for food to making sure the Master never saw his father do anything against the law. He missed the fishy smell that clung to everything they owned and he even missed the mostly rotten planks that broke once in a while, making them bath way before bathing day. He missed the days on the boat with the whole family, sharing stories and teaching Tilda to fish. 

What if he forgot who he once was, now that he was a prince, with enough to eat and mostly planning as work?

What if he forgot himself?

Getting to the mountain seemed impossible important suddenly and he began the track at once.  
The idea wasn't fully formed, yet, but the impression of it was enough to drive him forward, to ask the nearest dwarf in a guard-uniform where he could find Dwalin.

What he hadn't anticipated were the questions.  
Did something happen? Was there an emergency? Did Dwalin await him?

Of course he wasn't, but Bain still said he was and the lie felt good, because it wasn't a prince-thing to do.  
The fact that literally no one looked at him oddly, despite being dirty and hurried, told him enough about the dwarven life, more than any lesson could have taught him – no one would ever be looked down at for hard, honest work. 

The guard he lied to about Dwalin awaiting him took him through halls he never visited before and after another turn that didn't look any different to the rest he was told, polite but firm, to wait. 

The dwarf then walked around another turn and out of sight, leaving Bain to stew in his nerves. No matter how much he missed it he wasn't the silly little lake boy anymore.  
He was Prince Bain of Dale and this behaviour would likely have consequences as soon as Dwalin told the guard he didn't expect the child, for he probably wasn't anything else in the eyes of the strong warrior. 

The guard came into view again and waved to come forward. He did his utmost to swallow the surprise at this all not blowing up in his face.  
Dwalin wore a sleeveless tunic that emphasized his muscled arms – not that they needed any help, but Bain appreciated the view onto the inked biceps nonetheless.

Bidding goodbye the guard walked away and left them to eye each other up, until the older stepped aside and granted him entry.  
Breathing a sigh of relief he entered quickly and tried to ignore the rush that went through him as he heard the heavy door closing. 

“So, as we agreed to meet, I might have forgotten the reason.”, Dwalin drawled as he took a step closer, but instead of feeling threatened Bain experienced the urge to be protected by him, to be kept save, be marked – Yes. That was it.

“I want you to ink me.”, Bain breathed with trembling determination. It got him a disbelieving look and he grinned brightly at taking the warrior by surprise.  
He took a few moments to answer and just as Bains grin dropped out of his face completely, too unsure to maintain it, he took yet another step closer.

As his quarters weren't spacious – despite him being a lord there didn't seem to be any obvious riches kept either – it brought him almost directly in front of the prince.

“Yer father'd kill me.”, Dwalin uttered, his voice vibrating over Bains skin.  
“He's not allowed to know it.”, the younger urged, earning a suspicious glare. Huffing, he elaborated. “It's a race thing. Tattoos aren't done for men, while for dwarves it's normal. He wouldn't think anything wrong with it were the views different, but as it is – I want this for myself, not for him or anyone else. Please.”

Dwalin thought about it, at least, and while the guard in him was clearly against it he could understand where the lad was coming from. And his begging face was gorgeous, making the dwarf want to mark him other than inking, but he quickly clamped the notion down.

“It would be somewhere no one will see and if they do, I won't utter a word. I promise.”, Bain urged, looking so earnest Dwalin instantly felt bad about wanting to inspect all the spots no one else would see. Not enough to stop, though.

“I don't doubt your word, lad.”, the dwarf assured, the deep voice enough to sooth the worries.  
“You sure about that, though? It'll stay, even though you change your mind.”, the older tried to reason – it wasn't often he had to be the responsible one, but he wouldn't take his time to think about it now, either. Maybe later. Probably not.

“I won't.”, the prince said with such conviction Dwalin decided not to question him further. Anything more would be an insult and he was too fond of him to push him away now.  
“Alright. You got something in mind, already?”, he asked, taking the route to his desk where he walked right past Bain, letting his body caress him where he wouldn't allow his hands.

There was a barely audible gasp and the prince bit on his tongue as he noticed it was him.  
“Yes! I can try to draw it, if you like, but I'm not that good at it.”, he offered, stepping closer to the dwarf that unearthed a page of parchment and a carbon.  
“Do that. We'll see how it looks.”, Dwalin advised, handing the utensils over and leading him to the little corner that held a small couch and an armchair. To keep himself from temptation the young man got pushed into the armchair, while he took the couch.

They were quite as Bain drew the first and the second draft. At the third he interrupted it frequently with frustrated huffs and a little growl here and there.  
“Give me that. You drive me crazy.”, the guard snapped after a vicious lip bite that made him want to groan and pull the princeling onto his thighs. Grabbing the paper he looked the design over, noticing the scribbled lines and crossed out tries.

It was minimal drawn, all straight lines – as good as he got them, at least – and pictured a boat, with what seemed like fish in it. A line was what he thought a pier, or maybe the horizon and, far in the distance, was Erebor.  
“So your still the boy of Lake Town.”, Dwalin deadpanned, earning himself a breathtakingly bright smile, all frustration gone from the handsome face.

“So you see it, that's great. Look, this is -”, and as Bain launched into an enthusiastic speech about his design and what every little line stood for he came over onto the couch, pressing himself against the dwarfs side because the couch was small enough to reach its limits with a wide dwarf and a slim human. 

“It will be easy enough to get this on your skin. Where do you want it?”, Dwalin asked after they talked it through. It was late and his day had been long, but the thought of waiting any longer to get his hands on the soft, almost hairless skin made him grit his teeth.  
His question rose a delicious blush and a mumbled answer he didn't understand – which he selfishly took as excuse to lean closer, inhaling the sweaty scent of a day of hard work.

“I said -”, Bain started again, chancing a look at dark brown eyes almost edging black and he had to look away again quickly. “- on my leg. I want it on my leg.”  
“You sure no one ever sees it there, lad?”, Dwalin asked dubiously, causing the blush to deepen.  
“Not up here.”, he murmured, pointing high at his inner thigh, only inches below – swallowing Dwalin felt himself harden. That would be hell in tight quarters, inches from the adolescents cock, face close enough to inhale and smell and he had to swallow dryly. 

“Great. Freshen up a little, don't want to get dirt in the wound.”, the guard got out evenly enough.  
Surprised eyes turned to him, blown wide from – being close to him? Ridiculous. But the thought caught and wouldn't leave. 

“Now? Are you sure? I haven't disturbed you enough already?”, the prince wanted to know, almost anxious to get an answer. The reaction drew a fond smile from the warrior.  
“As I recall we scheduled an appointment, prince Bain.”, he teased, intend to see a smile on the handsome face, but it screwed up instead.  
“Please, don't. It's just Bain. I'm just – Bain.”, he insisted and got a serious nod in return. Dwalin didn't need to understand the exact reasoning, he'd still follow the order. Which didn't mean he wasn't curious.

“Good. Bain.”, he intoned and pretended he didn't see the bobbing adamsapple as the lad swallowed thickly.  
“Wash up.”, the dwarf urged and Bain jumped up immediately, disappearing into the next room, a small, practical bathroom.

Standing up Dwalin took his inking-kit out of the bottom drawer of his desk. He'd only used it recently on Fili and it was always clean, he made sure of that, taking care of it as frequently as he did of his weapons. He never professionally learned a craft, he became a warrior right out of his lessons and he didn't regret that. But if he could chose a craft now, it would be inking.

Bain stepped into the room, nervously pawing at his breeches he held in his hand, bare from the waist down except a thin pair of underpants.  
“Couch.”, Dwalin rasped out not unaffected and followed over. Placing the armchair closer he watched the young man fidget.

“How do you want me?”, he asked, blushing heavily and the warrior wanted to lick the colour off his cheeks.  
Sitting down he took hold of the pale thighs, pulling him closer, spreading them and taking place between them. It drew a sharp gasp and this close up it was impossible to miss the young cock twitching. He wanted to swallow him down and keep him there until he could taste his cum down in his throat, could suck him dry until he was oversensitive and pliable. Then he would - 

“Like this.”, he uttered darkly, locking their gazes with intent, watching the others blow wider, swallowing colour as fast as he could swallow cock.

Then, because Dwalin was a professional, he took a small razor blade in hand.  
“Needs to be hairless.”, he explained as he took the knife to the creamy, quivering, thigh. His hold tightened and as an answer to the silent command the leg stilled. Pleased humming rumbled in his chest an he set to work quickly, mesmerizing at the sheer trust the boy put in him. It kept him hard, aching and he wanted nothing more than to debauch him. 

Putting the razor away he took the carbon and, after the draft, copied the design onto the softest skin he'd ever put his hands on. He wanted to kiss it, lick it, bite it until he left a mark that would last weeks, but – inking him with his needles would mark him forever. The thought had him throbbing in his pants and with enthusiasm he took his ink into his hand.

A last inquiring glance, a determined nod and then Dwalin concentrated on his work.  
The lines were straight, not a dot out of place and for an obvious virgin – on the tattoo front - - and generally too, probably, otherwise he wouldn't think the place of skin was securely hidden – he kept still most of the time. Muscles tensed, biting his lips, eyes screwed shut he was still entirely too beautiful to stay concentrated, so the warrior had to look away again.

It took a while to finish and he even got around to ask if they should take a break, but Bain was determined and strong and Dwalins affection for him grew tenfold.

Spending an extended amount of time between his thighs could have something to do with it, too.

As he finished he took the wet cloth to the inking one last time, wiping it clean from the excess black, lingering longer than necessary, but it seemed impossible to widen the distance, the prospect undesirable after so much time touching him.

The legs relaxed, opening further and if he'd looked up he'd see open, aware eyes, greedy with want. The ink was long gone and he was stroking now, not practical, only wanted, needed. The cloth disappeared from his hand, leaving them empty with nothing to do. 

Bain let it fall onto the floor, taking Dwalins hands in his and with one fluid motion guided him up and planted a kiss on his lips.

Then, it seemed, he didn't know what to do, seemed to wait, tense under his skin and so Dwalin took charge. Wrapping his arm around the slim waist it was easy to lift the young man onto his lap, who groaned obscenely into his mouth at the blatant display of strength. A sharp nip to his lips had him rocking his hips, trying to find friction without hurting his already irritated skin, pawing his hands at Dwalins muscled chest.

As soon as the guards shirt flew his hand was in the youngers pants, making him break the kiss to moan loudly.  
The cock in his hand was uncut, average in size for a dwarf, if not a little thin. The thought that he'd still grow and that maybe Dwalin would be there to witness it made him hot all over, tightening the grip, drawing another moan.

His hips bucked up, rubbing himself on the firm ass, relishing in the friction, uttering little sounds of pleasure.  
The eager prince fumbled with the laces of his breeches, making him wish he'd been half naked all along, too.

It took the youngers nimble fingers a few moments, shaking with nerves, before his hand reached inside, massaging him clumsily.  
His actions were hurried and untaught and wild and they screamed out the need to get off quickly. And while Dwalin normally liked to take his sweet time, it wasn't quite normal to spend hours inches away from his interests crotch either. Feeling the hand, small compared to his own, despite Bain being of taller race, on his heated skin made him tighten his grip on the others cock, moving faster, wanting him to reach his climax at the same time as himself.

“Look into my eyes.”, Dwalin ordered deeply, drawing the others gaze at once, black eyes snapping up to follow the command. That alone brought him closer to the edge, balls drawing up, ready to shoot. He kissed Bain messily on his smooth jaw.

“I want you to look at me when you come. You'll never forget this, being in my lap, rubbing my thick cock, moaning so prettily, lips glistening with spit. Next time they'll be wrapped around me, swallowing me deep into your - “, his harsh whispers were cut off by Bain, eyes blown and locked with the warriors, obedient until the moment his orgasm hit him. His mouth opened in a silent scream and as his sperm hit the dwarf on his chest he clamped his teeth into the youngers collarbone, careful to mark without breaking skin and he came into Bains hand, shooting his load and mixing it with his lovers.

They stayed for a while, way until the seed cooled down, but none were willing to move away.  
“Can I sleep here?”, the young man murmured shyly into his beard, a total contrast to the debauched sounds Dwalin heard from him not too long ago.

It was a very talented question, as it robbed Dwalin of any doubts of a repeat performance. Any maybe it wasn't just the pleasure that drew him in, but more like everything else and the possible sex was just a bonus.

“Wouldn't have let you go anyway.”, he assured with a rumble and got a breathless chuckle in return.  
“Great. I don't plan to go for long. Like, ever. You're stuck. I feel quite clingy now.”, the younger babbled in post-coital bliss, making Dwalin laugh quietly.

His answer was delivered with a fond smile and as his arms tightened around slim hips he couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was something good, something lasting.  
“Don't get too optimistic. It might just be the sperm.”


End file.
